


Leave Your Lover

by panicmoonwalk



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Angst, M/M, Pining Louis, Sad Louis, The Harry/ OMC is only implied, how is that even a tag, it gets better though don't worry, pigeon epiphany, simply because I love this song and the idea wouldn't leave my brain, soo much angst, there's a brief mention of suicide but it's not in relation to anyone
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-08-26
Updated: 2014-08-26
Packaged: 2018-02-14 22:47:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,764
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2205870
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/panicmoonwalk/pseuds/panicmoonwalk
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>An AU inspired by Sam Smith's 'Leave Your Lover' where Harry lights up for someone who isn't Louis. </p>
<p>Louis' chance is gone, until it isn't.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Leave Your Lover

**Author's Note:**

> Hiiiii
> 
> This is kind of my first fic for this fandom which I scribbled down in a day because that song hurts my heart and I couldn't get this idea out of my head so I hope it isn't too terrible! It was also in hope to kickstart me to finish my 40k+ WIP... I suck.
> 
> I blame Sam Smith entirely for this travesty.

The beat pulsed and the press of hot bodies surrounding him came in waves but all Louis could see was the way the strobe lit up the smooth profile of Harry’s face leaving him half in shadow, the light glinting off his teeth as he threw his head back in laughter and the way his eyes shone as they looked at each other across the dance floor.

 Louis was drunk, the alcohol buzzing through his body and loosening his muscles, he was dancing in a crowd of faces but all he could see was Harry and how he danced clumsily, the strobe catching his eyes, mouth, his nose and cheekbones in white, green and pink and Louis thought it was the most beautiful thing he’d ever seen.

 

He was distinctly aware of Niall’s hand around his neck and Zayn and Liam pressed together in the throng but he couldn’t look away from Harry just yet because his curls were lit up like a halo and he was singing along with all the wrong words and Louis was so in love.

 

He was vaguely aware of a hand on his forearm and a slight pressure, Niall’s blonde head bobbing as he pulled Louis through the crowd of gyrating bodies, Louis’ not really registering as he craned his head back in search for Harry, seeing the younger boy toss his sweaty curls back off his forehead as the light once again illuminated the wide set of his mouth as he laughed at something Liam shouted. The crowd pulsed and Louis lost sight of Harry but that didn’t stop him from looking. Maybe it was a metaphor for his life? Louis tended to get a touch philosophical when he was wasted.

 

“Another drink, lad?” Niall half yelled, the bar area less crowded but no less noisy.

 

“Um yeah, two secs,” Louis slurred, groping blindly into the back pocket of his tight jeans for his wallet and pulling it out. He opened the worn leather and grimaced at the sight before him, a dog eared receipt and some change that wasn’t even enough for a bus ticket home.

 

He’d like to say it was a rare occurrence but Louis pulled faces at the contents of his wallet on a daily basis. Not that it really bothered him, he didn’t care much for gold. Life was more than metal and paper, after all.

 

Despite the haze Louis could see the fond rolling of Niall’s eyes as the blonde pulled out his own wallet, handing a crisp ten pound note over to the barman as he turned to Louis with a chuckle.

 

“You’re always bloody skint Lou!”

 

Louis surveyed him with what he hoped was his most pompous glare, the pulling himself up to his full height marred by the fact he stumbled slightly in the process.

 

“What use is money, young Niall, when you need someone to hold?”

 

His words of wisdom were met with another fond eye roll and a pat on his shoulder as Niall turned back around to receive his change and exchange a loud laugh with the barman, leaving Louis to go back to his surveying of the dance floor.

 

He soon straightened up and his pulse quickened as he saw a familiar head of curls bobbing towards him, Harry edging past grinding couples with his usual courteous ‘oops, pardon me.’ Louis could do nothing about the smile he knew had spread over his face or the pool of warmth in his stomach as he watched Harry trip over what was most likely his own feet with a ‘whoopsie,’ grinning at Louis as he made his way over, pulling faces as he side stepped others in various states of drunkenness.

 

Louis could watch Harry walk towards him all day and he knew he’d wait forever. He knew he was smiling so hard the crinkles by his eyes were showing and he lifted his arms slightly as Harry stumbled towards him, always ready to catch him if he fell, or for anything, really.

 

Harry was paces away when Louis saw him glance towards the exit and stop, this time it was Harry craning his neck in search for a familiar head and when his face lit up into a dimpled smile and his eyes brightened Louis stomach dropped completely because he knew.

 

He watched Harry turn away from him and he watched Harry’s lips form words. He watched Harry change direction towards another figure and he watched Harry call his name and he watched Harry fall into the arms of someone that wasn’t Louis and then he turned away because he couldn’t watch any more.

 

He refused to meet Niall’s annoyingly understanding gaze and instead took the shot that was offered to him wordlessly, downing it in one gulp but the burn wasn’t enough to quell the ice in his veins.

 

His gaze was locked on the floor but he was so aware of the curls in his periphery nearing and he quickly muttered an excuse to Niall and slipped off through the back door into the smoking area, fingers fumbling in his pocket for his last cigarette and in that moment he was an addict because he knew if the little death stick wasn’t between his lips in ten seconds he might crumble and then he’d be pieces on the floor and that was only allowed to happen in the darkness of his small bedroom when it was just him and the world was asleep.

 

He didn’t realize until the cold air hit him that he’d stopped breathing ever since he saw Harry’s face light up at someone that wasn’t him and he forced himself to stop and let his lungs pull in the cool air that he so desperately needed despite knowing it would only keep him in the life where Harry wasn’t his.

 

He sucked the smoke into his lungs frantically, ignoring the drizzle and the wary glances of nicotine bound strangers who wondered what on earth was up with the short, tattooed guy who stood with his head back against the wet wall and was smoking like his life depended on it. Maybe it did.

 

Louis should be used to this, probably. He should be used to seeing Harry smile for someone else because he’d seen it for quite a few years now but it had gotten harder over time until it was like a professional boxer repeatedly punching him in the stomach until he ached all over and his breath was gone.

 

They’d met when Harry was sixteen and shy and Louis was eighteen and flamboyant and boisterous. He’d picked Harry up and whirled him through school and college and university because they just fit and they were the dream team and two peas in a pod.

 

Louis thinks Harry could have loved him back then when they were young because Harry looked at him like he’d hung the moon but Louis had always thought ‘not yet’ because they were so young and they had all the time in the world and they needed to _live._ But Louis had lived and he’d laughed but he’d never loved someone like he loved Harry.

 

He’d thought that he’d had forever because Harry was Harry and he was always there and even though they both had had people they’d always just come back to each other.

 

Louis had thought that one day he’d just look at Harry and they’d both know it was time now and they’d fit together seamlessly and one day they’d stand up as their mother’s cried and pledge their lives to one another because they were Louis and Harry and they were forever.

 

But Louis knows now that life isn’t fair and that maybe he’d had his chance and lost it all those years ago and perhaps he would have been okay if he wasn’t alone and if every time Harry looked at him his heart didn’t quadruple in size and every time he felt the brush of Harry’s fingers his skin didn’t catch on fire and he wasn’t burning on a pyre of his own love as Harry slept in the arms of another.

 

Louis hated time because it had ruined him and it had left him twenty six and alone in the smoking area in a club filled with twenty year olds on recreational drugs and it made him think that maybe this time Harry would detach himself from those arms and realize Louis wasn’t there and he’d find him and he’d bring him in from out the cold and then maybe Louis would float a little higher in the pool of life that he was currently drowning in.

 

But he didn’t because he never did now and Louis was left to walk home alone through the empty streets, the lie of extreme drunkenness coming easily to him as he sent a text to the lads that they’d all see through easily except Harry because Harry was so _oblivious_.

 

Louis was left to skip the third step that led him to his front door because it was crumbling alone and he unlocked his front door remembering to kick it twice because it wouldn’t open if you didn’t alone and he walked into his empty flat alone and flicked the lights on only to flick them off again when they illuminated his sunken eyes alone and he walked into his messy bedroom alone because it was always just him now.

 

He shared the flat with Niall because there was no way Louis could afford rent on his own place on 4 temp jobs a year and although it was small and crumby it had a certain charm it was all he had to give.

 

Louis knew he’d hear Niall stumble in in a few hours most likely with a giggling stranger in tow because these days nights were endless and his friends could look at strangers and feel desire whereas he’d just fallen behind because all he wanted was Harry and he was practically ruined for anyone else.

 

Louis eyed the picture stuck above his desk of the five lads all group together from a trip to Brighton three years ago. They were all laughing, Harry hanging off Louis but Louis had a gentle grip on his waist, always grounding him. He looked at his twenty- three year old face and it seemed to alive and regret stabbed him with her serrated blade because that boy still had hope and thought he had all the time in the world. He looked at the still of Harry’s bright smile and his wide eyes and he thought ‘I’m in love with you and you will never know.’ Because chances are he wouldn’t.

 

*

 

Louis woke up the next day with a foul taste on his mouth and the lead that was slowly filling his body a little higher than it was yesterday.

 

He dragged himself out of bed and busied himself making a cup of tea and pouring some cereal and in a way he relished his monotonous morning routine because he didn’t think about the way the light lit up Harry’s face last night or the way ‘he’ lit it up when he arrived because Louis couldn’t think about _him_.

 

Harry works at his stepdad’s company, something to do with marketing, Louis thinks, and that’s where Harry met _him_. He was older and he was sophisticated and he whisked Harry off to fancy restaurants and trips to capital cities as the smell of his Gucci cologne lingered and the sunlight glinted off his Rolex.

 

Harry just tended to shrug at their friends probing questions and say it wasn’t serious but his slightly star struck but forever dopey smile told Louis that wasn’t quite true. It had taken a few years but Louis had perfected his mask and he wore it well. He could smile when he felt like crying and could look patiently interested as Harry told yet another longwinded story about his latest cultural experience with _him_ when anger was bubbling so hard he thought it might rise up and he’d explode. Louis thought he’d probably have a pretty successful career as an actor if he tried because he had perfected indifference and it would certainly pay the bills much better than his underpaid role at the local bookies.

 

Louis’ went through the motions of getting ready for work with the familiar heaviness settling over his shoulders, draping over him like a familiar jumper on a cold day. He thinks he’d probably miss it if it wasn’t there because it was like an extra limb now and it was so familiar he’d forgotten what it was like to be carefree. It wasn’t that he was depressed because he really wasn’t but if unrequited love was a disease then he definitely had that.

 

He trudged to work through the puddles but when he entered the shop he was greeted with the sight of his regulars who frittered their money on anything that could race calling greetings out to him and giving him a wave. He smiled for them because they liked him and thought he gave good advice, he could harmlessly flirt a little with his boss because she loved it really and he liked it here so he was happy and it meant he didn’t think about things for a while.

 

His mood darkened when it neared closing because today was Monday and he would see Harry in a couple of hours.

 

Monday was ‘their night’ and had been since university had happened and limited their time together. They’d meet at a pub and have a drink and catch up because they always wanted to know about the others life and Louis would hang on to Harry’s every word even if it took him several days to tell a story.

 

Monday evenings were both the highlight and the worst part of Louis’ week because his heart betrayed him and leapt every time he met Harry’s gaze but it also sunk to his soles every time Harry said ‘you’re my best friend Lou’ or when Harry talked about _him._

 

Louis dragged his feet on the way, scuffing up the toes of his battered vans he was probably too old for, but as soon as he walked into their familiar haunt and saw Harry’s face light up in recognition he found himself hurrying, sinking easily into Harry’s waiting arms. He revelled in the familiar embrace but he also had to catch himself to make sure he wasn’t holding just that little bit too tight or nuzzling into the soft curls at the nape of Harry’s neck because that probably wasn’t his place and although he knew Harry wouldn’t mind Louis didn’t want to do that to himself.

 

He sat down opposite Harry and tried to disguise his flinch with a cough when Harry hooked his ankles around Louis’ easily under the table, heart aching because he was so close to Harry but he’d never felt so far away.

 

It wasn’t always like this. Louis always knew there was a connection but he thought it’d wait and he was young and he didn’t really worry about anything so if he and Harry were going to happen then he just reasoned that one day it would.

 

But he grew up and the realization that all he ever wanted was right there in front of him was not a startling one because perhaps he’d always known and just been a little bit blind to it. He’d be anything Harry wanted him to be because that’s what unconditional love was really but what he didn’t really expect was that he’d just be Harry’s friend and Harry would go looking elsewhere and find what he was looking for.

 

Louis watched Harry’s eyes dance animatedly as he told yet another story and Louis was lost in his own head again because all he could think was ‘don’t you see what I can bring, he’ll never love you like I can’ and he hated himself a little because he should be happy that Harry’s happy but he’s selfish and wishes it was him that made Harry’s eyes sparkle like that.

 

Harry finished his story with a throaty chuckle before leaning back and surveying Louis, no doubt taking in his shaggy brown hair and piercing blue eyes but missing the bags and the way his lips turned down more than up these days.

 

“Can’t believe you’re gunna be 27 in a few months, Lou.” Harry said, smiling softly over the table.

 

“Don’t remind me,” Louis replied with a groan. “I’m so _old_!” And he could laugh because it was Harry and being with him was so easy except that it was so hard.

 

Harry leaned forward and reached for his pint, raising it in the air towards Louis. “To growing old,” he said.

 

Louis lifted his own drink and clicked it against Harry’s. “To growing old,” he echoed.

 

But when Harry drew his drink back and took a long sip, Louis’ stayed in the air. To growing old. Except Louis would never grow old with Harry. He’d never watch his grandchildren playing in the garden with Harry by his side and he’d never see the brown curls turn to grey and see the laugher lines become etched into Harry’s skin. Because Harry didn’t love him and Harry wasn’t his to grow old with.

 

Louis barely registered the thump of his glass hitting the table and he didn’t notice his chair falling backwards as he pushed himself to his feet, or the confused expression on Harry’s face.

 

“Leave him.” Louis said, the roaring in his ears so much he’d barely realised it was him that had spoken and it wasn’t him standing in front of Harry because he wasn’t really sure where he was right now and he wasn’t sure who it was answering the question on Harry’s lips.

 

“Leave…” And he couldn’t say his name. “Your lover.” He spat. “Leave him. For me.”

 

He was vaguely aware that all his bones were shaking and he was so cold but there was fire coursing through his body because it had been so long but Louis had finally said it but the soft inkling of relief was so short-lived because of the expression on Harry’s face.

 

His mouth gaped open and it would have been comical if it weren’t for the frown between his eyes and the way his knuckles turned white as he grasped the table, staring up at Louis but not with a smile or love to equal his own like a tiny part of Louis’ responsible for the ‘what ifs’ had hoped for.

 

“What…Lou, what are you saying? Leave him… for you? Leave him? I can’t…” Harry’s stammers were basically unintelligible but Louis heard.

 

I can’t.

 

_I can’t._

 

Louis was vaguely aware his limbs were attempting to move but his brain was screaming and he thinks he feels Harry grip his arm and he turns and blue meets green.

 

But blood is still entering his vena cava and it’s still leaving his right ventricle because his heart’s still pumping and it actually hasn’t broken into a million little pieces and exploded across the room. And he’s gasping but oxygen is still entering his body and he’s still breathing even though it feels like all his air has been left behind on the stool he just jumped from because he’s looking into Harry’s eyes and he once knew every detail like the little flecks of gold in his irises and the swoop of his eyelashes except now they’re so unfamiliar it’s like he’s never looked into them before and there’s a look he doesn’t recognize except it’s pity and then it’s gone because he’s stumbling now and he’s pushing past people towards the red neon exit sign and he’s crossing the threshold and he leaves and maybe he exits Harry’s life because Harry doesn’t call his name.

 

*

 

Louis thinks he’s walking but he can’t be sure because he might be running and that’s why the air isn’t filling his lungs properly and he’s aching in places he never knew would hurt. Louis thinks the link between mind and body is definitely a thing because he’s not just heartbroken he thinks his heart may actually be broken because it aches and his chest aches and his bones ache and it’s all because he loves a stupid boy who’s just confirmed he doesn’t love him back.

 

Louis kind of feels like he’s in a different zone because he’s walking through the middle of the street and there’s cars and people and all the noises of everyday life are filling his eardrums but they sound so far away and he’s looking at the faces of people walking past him but he can’t make out features and all he can see are blurs and he thinks that maybe he’s dying.

 

He’s not sure where he’s heading exactly but he rounds a corner and stops because he’s at the cathedral. He’s not really religious because he’s far too blasphemous but he’s always admired the majestic building whenever he’s passed it. It’s calming, somehow.

 

He sits down on a metal bench just off the path the winds around the grand building, relishing the feel of the cold metal in his back because it may not be soothing the burn but at least it’s cool and it doesn’t hurt.

 

A lone pigeon flaps its wings near his head and lands on the other side of the bench, its plume ruffled and the feathers on one side slightly askew. Louis thinks they probably look a right sorry pair.

 

“You know what, pigeon?” Louis said aloud, exuberating a wary glance from the pigeon and a soft ‘coo’ which he took as encouragement. “I think I get why people take their own lives. Like, they’d rather face an eternity of nothingness than keep living their lives how they are. Don’t get me wrong, I’m not suicidal, but I think I’d do just about anything to not feel like this anymore.”

 

He laughed harshly as the pigeon hopped off the bench onto the wet ground, pecking at a soggy cigarette butt with a persistent beak.

 

“What’s the name of that part of the brain responsible for like, emotions and shit?” He continued. “The… amygdala. Yeah, the amygdala. Well pigeon, if I could, I’d remove my damn amygdala right this second and you could peck at that, it’d probably be a damn sight more rewarding for you than it is for me having to put up with it. What I’d do not to feel anymore…” He trailed off as the pigeon dropped the butt and hopped over to a small patch of grass, pecking until its head bobbed back and it swallowed its reward. The pigeon, despite its determination, had realized the discarded cigarette butt was fruitless and could offer him nothing. So, he’d moved on to the patch of grass and it had rewarded him with bigger and better things.

 

It was the pigeon, really, that showed Louis that he needed to move on. And that maybe he could find his own patch of grass if he tried hard enough.

*

 

“I really don’t think this is a good idea.” Zayn said as he reluctantly passed Louis a pile of t shirts that Louis proceeded to stuff into a large backpack.

 

It had been two weeks since ‘The Incident’ and although Louis had heard nothing from Harry and his friends knew enough not to mention him, he was feeling surprisingly calm.

 

“What you have to understand, Zee,” Louis replied, “Is that I don’t want to feel like this. Do you know the amount of times I’ve tried to stop loving him? Where I’ve woken up and thought, ‘right, this is the day you’re going to move on and get over him’ only to have my resolve crumble into ashes as soon as he bloody smiles in my direction. I’d do anything to stop loving him, Zee.”

 

Zayn was looking at him now with so much sympathy in his amber eyes that would normally have Louis in a ball on the floor but this time all he did was smile softly in response. It took more pain, surprisingly, to make him see more clearly than he had in a long while.

 

“What people don’t understand,” he continued, “when they think you’re ‘running away,’ is that it’s not weak or cowardly, not really, it’s because you don’t want to put yourself through it again. You don’t want to know the pain of seeing their face again, or worse, not seeing it because they’ve decided to distance themselves from you, from your friends. I might be running away but I’m running for me, because I need my patch of grass, Zee, and this is the only way I’m gunna get it.

 

Zayn studied his face for a moment but Louis knew he got it. Zayn had undergone his fair share of heartbreak after all. The two exchanged soft smiles before Zayn continued the two man production line of folding Louis’ clothes and handing them to him, both of them laughing as Zayn over- exaggerated his grimace at some of Louis more ‘out there’ fashion choices.

 

Their friendship was one of easy familiarity, like a favourite pair of jeans or a cup of tea in ‘your’ mug. Zayn had always seen right through Louis’ various facades and didn’t put up with any of his bullshit. Sometimes, Louis was surprised Zayn wasn’t running with him, but in a way he was glad he wasn’t.

 

Only when they’d finished and Zayn had left briefly vowing to return later with Liam and Niall in tow, did Louis stop for a second and survey the sight in front of him.

 

His large canvas backpack screamed a brand new adventure and he’d never seen his room so tidy, the space above his desk this time bare, the faded shade of covered paint a stark contrast to the bright wall.

 

Louis sighed a little but it was not a heavy one, because even though the box in his mind labelled ‘Harry’ was far from locked away, he had direction now and it might take a while but maybe one day he’d wake up and not see full lips and dimples ingrained in his eyelids or think of Harry when he saw a ridiculously oversized hat. Maybe one day he’d look at someone and he wouldn’t wish he saw familiar green eyes staring back at him and maybe one day he could run his hands through someone’s hair and not feel a stab of disappointment when there were no chocolatey curls to wrap his fingers around. Maybe one day.

 

He smiled to himself softly as he picked up his backpack and made the obligatory passport check, feeling rather giddy when he spotted the plane ticket tucked into a side pocket. It had been quite a while since he’d felt excitement and he was relishing it. Positivity was a bit foreign for Louis but he found himself quite enjoying it.

 

*

 

Louis felt a bit of a twang when he opened the front door to Zayn, Liam and Niall’s smiling faces with no tall head of curls nested in the middle, but it soon faded into the background when he heard Niall’s familiar cackle after a ‘why the fuck are you knocking Niall you live here’.

 

There was another twang when all the boys spotted his crammed backpack leaning against the living room wall, and they all turned towards him with the same warm, understanding smiles of best friends who love you no matter what.

 

There was another when, after the typical beer and game of fifa came and went, the 4 boys huddled together in a tight embrace and there was a chorus of ‘gunna miss you so much Lou’ and ‘I hope you find what you’re looking for’ and the obligatory ‘wherever you end up I’m coming to visit you fuckface’ from Niall and Louis felt the all familiar swell of tears rise up but they were happy sad tears because although he’d miss his boys so fucking much he couldn’t wait to see the world and now seemed like a better time than any.

 

The last twang came when he opened the front door for the second time that night, expecting a sighing Zayn having left his keys or a tearful Niall after one last hug, and it was Harry.

 

*

 

Louis had always felt it to be quite an achievement that he was rarely ever gobsmacked in his life but this was certainly not one of them because he was flattened.

 

Harry stood tall and broad in his doorway but also hunched and nervous and more like a child than he ever was at sixteen. His usual smile was replaced with a frown and his eyes looked unusually dull and tired, like they’d been rubbed one too many times courtesy of not enough sleep or a night out that turned into it’s 5am and you’re still dancing.

 

Louis stood in the doorway but again his brain was betraying him because nothing was processing and his eyes were clearly not right because _Harry_ was stood in his doorway and blood was rushing in his ears. He wondered, for some reason, if he shut the door and opened it again would Harry be gone, like a mirage or a 60s game show. Maybe he could have tried but it was Louis and it was Harry and even if his heart was a beaten mess on the floor Louis would never close a door on Harry.

 

Instead he’d just stare like he’d seen a ghost and maybe he had because in Harry was the ghost of love that they’d never had and when Harry looked up and met his eyes with the fiercest look of determination Louis had ever seen on his face it didn’t look all that far away after all.

 

Four words were all it took to send Louis into a vicious cycle of being built up only to come crashing down and it’d been seconds but it felt like the cogs of Louis’ brain had been whirring forever and he still couldn’t speak.

 

“I’m coming with you.”

 

Louis’ pretty sure his brain is short circuiting because Harry can’t possibly have said that but there’s the familiar little red book sticking out of his front pocket and there’s a bulky leather bag over one shoulder like he’s taking a trip but he can’t be because Louis is too.

 

“Not with that bag you’re not, all the other backpackers will think you’re a right posh wanker.” It’s a good thing ‘sass’ is Louis’ middle name because it always comes through for him when he can’t remember what coherent sentences are and his brain is still refusing to cooperate and actually process what is happening.

 

Harry barks a short laugh but there’s no humour in it, and he slowly steps forward towards Louis who can do nothing but step back and then they’re locked in a dance until Louis’ back is pressed against the wall and Harry is too near but all of Louis will power is taken up trying to stop his body from leaping forward and he thinks his flesh still might and he’ll just be bones against a wall.

 

“I’m coming with you because I love you and I’m guessing after the other day that you might love me too and I know I’m an idiot but so are you and I’d rather we were idiots together than apart because if you get on a plane and leave me here then I don’t think I’d be whole.” Harry’s eyes were pain but his voice was even and he calmly edged nearer to Louis as Louis tried not to drown because Harry had said those three words that had ruined Louis’ life and all he could do was stare.

 

“You’re lying. Why are you lying to me, Harry? Please… don’t do this.” Louis wasn’t sure what he was staying but he couldn’t stop the rising hysteria in his voice and he’d plug his eyes if he could because somehow they were leaking and he was shrinking but the wall wouldn’t let him in and Harry was reaching out to cup his face in his big paw but he wiped under Louis’ eyes so gently.

 

“I have loved you, for the longest time.” Harry said and his voice was brimming and sincere and despite a lifetime of experiences telling Louis he should think otherwise, Louis believed him. Because it was Harry and Harry couldn’t lie for shit and his eyes never did so Louis’ body moved and he let it.

 

He was never normally one for clichés but as soon as their lips met Louis was sure everything else just fell away and they slotted together like they were made to fit and somehow Louis was just fixed.

 

Call it a rash decision but they’d probably been building up to this since 16 and 18 and nothing felt more natural than holding Harry’s hand as the plane left the tarmac.

 

Take a chance on me.

 

*

 

Epilogue

 

One of Louis’ favourite sensations is the way the sun soaks into his skin and warms him from the inside out but nothing quite beats the soft brush of Harry’s fingers as they draw patterns onto Louis’ back.

 

He opens his eyes and the Nai Harn beach is so beautiful but it has nothing on the smile of the boy sitting opposite him who’s eyes are love and touch is so, so gentle.

 

They hadn’t just sailed away into the sunset because there had been raised voices and tears and talks that lasted well into the night where they established they were both idiotic and stubborn and frightened but all of the hurt and the anger had sort of melted away with the sun and although Louis can remember the ache now it just serves as a reminder to never let Harry go.

 

Once they’d got past the how’s and the why’s, like how it may have taken Harry a couple of weeks to get over the hurt and the shock but it hadn’t stopped him buying a plane ticket, and how certain people never really meant all that much in the first place, they were happy.

 

They were figuring it out and they thought they might see some of the world as they did even though they probably only really had eyes for each other.

 

His patch of grass was more of a forest now, really.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading!
> 
> I'm on [Tumblr](http://www.oceancolourpants.tumblr.com/) so please visit to tell me off or make friends because I have none.
> 
> Kudos and comments are much appreciated!


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